Outside the high school doors
there is a grandfather under a safari hat
whose tired legs attempt 
criss-cross applesauce
but don’t make it all the way,
and whose left hand digs
through a hitchhiker’s backpack,
placing comic books on the sidewalk.
His right hand arranges columns
like a solitaire game of
The Sandman,
and Tintin in the Congo.

The grandfather’s lips are curled
like he is trying to hide a smile
as evil-eyed 15 year-olds cast
long stares at him.
They continue on
down the sidewalk
and resume conversations about
his work at the pool,
her week at law camp,
a texts she keeps receiving from
an unwanted suitor,
and they tell themselves they’ll never
be like him 
when they are